Killer Love
by bandedbulbussnarfblat
Summary: Eliot is an assassin who gets hired to kill Julia Wicker and Quentin Coldwater. Then he meets Quentin and falls in love.
1. Chapter 1

Eliot has always been good at killing.

It started back in his childhood on the farm, when his older brothers would force the task of wringing a chicken's neck on him. He'd cried the first few times he done it, but that had only made their teasing worse. He quickly got the hang of it. It came naturally to him, whether wringing a chicken's neck or using magic to slit a man's throat. It was easy, and he was good at it.

It didn't mean he liked it, but there were only so many options for a magician kicked out of Brakebills. He and Margo had been lucky enough to prepare in advance, to keep their memories through a bit of clever spellwork.

Margo was good at this too, though she never seemed to feel the same guilt afterwards that he did. They had a code—they only killed bad people. There were plenty of people he'd turned down jobs on because they weren't bad enough to warrant death. It didn't mean someone else didn't kill them—Marina was less picky about her jobs, he knew.

Everyone had lines. This latest job would cross those. Unfortunately, Irene McAllister wasn't taking no for an answer.

"As a former Brakebills student you're best suited to get inside and do the job," she says, aggressively pouring tea. Eliot wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone aggressively pour tea before. "Besides, I'd hate for the dean to find out that you somehow still have your memories."

She's on the board of directors at Brakebills. She's also insanely wealthy and one of his and Margo's best clients. Usually it was to take out some rogue hedge witch or magician who was hurting people. There were a surprisingly large number of magic users who abused their power to the detriment of others.

Eliot leans back in his chair and looks Irene over. They're in her posh kitchen, almost as if this were a social call. "So this is blackmail."

"Blackmail is such an ugly word. You'll be paid handsomely, as always."

Eliot snuffs out his cigarette on her fancy mahogany table. "Is it smart to piss off someone who kills people for a living?"

The smallest flicker of fear enters Irene's eyes. "Is that a threat? Because I'm hardly afraid of you. Just remember what I know can affect more than just you. Or would you like Margo to have her mind wiped?"

It may be time to sever ties with Irene. Threats against him are one thing, threatening Margo is another. They'll have to discuss how to deal with her later. For now it may be best to complete this job and get her off their back.

"You're worked up. This is personal."

Irene looks away and sips her tea. "There are certain things my family would rather the world at large not know about. This girl stuck her nose where it doesn't belong."

"And the other one?"

Irene shrugs. "Her best friend. I believe she's told him what she knows."

She slides an envelope across the table. "All the relevant information about the targets is inside. By this time next week I expect Julia Wicker and Quentin Coldwater to be dead."

Eliot takes the envelope and stands, preparing to go. He reaches the door and stops. "Irene, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Threaten Margo again and I'll kill you in your sleep."


	2. Chapter 2

"This is bullshit."

Margo is pacing the length of their living room angrily. She looks ready to kill.

"I know."

"We don't kill innocent people."

"I know."

Margo glances over at him sitting on the couch. "You're too calm. I remember Mike McCormick. You were a mess after killing him."

"I shouldn't have taken that job."

Margo throws her hands in the air. "You shouldn't have taken this one."

"Irene has connections. It's better not to fuck with her."

Margo sits next to him and steals his cigarette. She takes a long drag. "She could have gave Marina this job."

"Marina is too close. She knows Julia."

Margo tilts her head. "How?"

Eliot gestures to the envelope on the coffee table in front of them. "Remember last year when one of her hedge's daughter came to her for help?"

"Katie something?"

"Kady. She's dating Julia."

Margo groans. "Great. Look, I can handle it. Let me be the one to get my hands dirty."

"Bambi, my hands are far from clean."

"You know what I mean."

Eliot pulls her against him and rests his head on hers. "I do, but I've got this. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Promise me you'll tap out if it's too much."

"I promise."

/

Marina's apartment has more wards on it than some banks. Eliot has a spare key for emergencies, but he's never used it. He's not sure he'd get past the wards unscathed. It takes her a moment to answer, and she has a definite guilty look on her face. It drops the minute she sees him. "Oh, it's just you. I thought you were my girlfriend. I told her I would quit smoking."

There's a distinct smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

"I come bearing gifts," Eliot says, holding up a bottle of wine.

Marina steps back and gestures for him to come in. Eliot wastes no time. "Tell me what you know about Quentin Coldwater."

"That's easy; nothing," Marina says, retrieving two wine glasses from the kitchen.

Eliot had decided it would be better not to mention the job on Julia, lest Marina felt some sort of loyalty towards Kady that protected her. He doesn't want Marina as an enemy. It's unlikely she'll care either way, but one can't be too careful in their business. He pours the wine as he speaks. "You know a friend of his, Kady."

"Hannah's daughter? We aren't close. I did her a favor, she did something for me."

Eliot knows better than to ask what the favor was. If Marina wanted him to know she would have told him. "So you've never met Quentin?"

"No; should I know him?"

"Irene put a hit out on him."

Marina glances at him over her wine glass. "He's at Brakebills? Good luck with that."

"I'll figure something out. He has family in Jersey."

Marina arches a brow. "Threatening his family? That's a little gauche for you."

"I was thinking more pretending to be him and call. I still know that spell that lets you change your voice."

"Ah, the classics."

Eliot leans forward and puts down his wine glass. "There is a spell I was hoping to borrow from you."

Marina grins. "For a cut of the money."

"Naturally."


	3. Chapter 3

Getting into Brakebills isn't much of a problem. One of the hedges he and Margo run with used to date a student there named Todd. Todd had been a good source of spells for awhile, until the hedge had dumped him. Eliot and Margo wanted to keep the connection, so they had seduced him. It hadn't been very hard. All Eliot has to do is call him and talk in his bedroom voice and Todd messes with the warding enough to let him in. It does probably mean he'll have to blow Todd later, after he kills Julia and Quentin, but that's not so bad. Todd is easy and eager to please.

The hard part is keeping his intentions under wrap. The pair run around with a psychic. While he learned basic warding from Brakebills, Marina has a bulletproof spell to keep minds from being read. It'll come in useful. He doesn't want to be too careful, Julia and Quentin's friend group consist of Kady, who learned battle magic from hedges, Alice Quinn who comes from a family of magicians, and Penny, a psychic. He's gathered intel on all of them, trying to find an in. Usually, he'd find the odd man out and attach to them. Some flirtation, the classic seduction. Unfortunately, in that regard Quentin is the odd man out. Julia is with Kady and Alice and Penny are together, Quentin is the one that's single.

Todd is friendly enough with them he could probably introduce them, but Eliot doesn't want Todd putting two and two together. He likes having the connection inside Brakebills. Doesn't mean he still can't use Todd's name.

"Quentin Coldwater?"

Quentin looks out of place at the party happening. The physical kids always were having parties, Eliot remembers. The music is loud and it's crowded and Quentin is temporarily alone, Julia having disappeared with Kady, Alice with Penny. Quentin looks confused at being addressed by him. Confused and a little drunk. "Uh-huh."

Eliot slips off the counter he was reclining on and takes a drag of his cigarette, eyeing Quentin up and down in a way that's blatantly flirtatious. "Eliot. Alumni. We've met before, I'm a friend of Todd's."

"Oh, right, yeah."

Eliot has learned most people will go along with this rather than admitting they never met you, to avoid possible hurt feelings. People lied all the time to be polite. Quentin probably honestly believes he has met him before and forgotten. Most people don't assume you're lying to them. At their core, people wanted to trust others. It made them easy targets for people like him.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Quentin looks like he was just waiting for someone to ask. "Yes, please."

"Follow me."

Quentin walks behind him out of the cottage. Eliot takes them on a meandering path until they're far enough away from the noise to talk. It's still too open to kill him here where anyone could see, so he'll have to see if he can lure him somewhere else. He came along with him easily enough, maybe the seduction route isn't a bad choice. "So what were you like before Brakebills?"

Quentin shrugs. "I was depressed. I don't know how I made it as long as I did without knowing I was a magician."

Honesty always comes easily to those he's going to kill. They can take his secrets to the grave. "I grew up on a farm in Indiana. I get the feeling."

Quentin looks at him, gives him a quick once over. He lingers a little on the curve of his ass, but Eliot pretends not to notice. "You don't look like a farmer."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Quentin stumbles a little as they walk. He is perhaps more drunk than Eliot realized. "I almost got expelled once."

Eliot actually knows this, he did his research. But Quentin can't know that. "How?"

"Me, Alice, Penny and Kady did a spell. It let something bad inside the school."

Eliot steps closer to Quentin. The moonlight streams down on his face, making him look ethereal and soft. He's cute, Eliot can admit to that. Just the sort of uptight nerd he'd like to unravel, under other circumstances. "I'm going to tell you a secret."

"You are?"

Eliot nods. "I killed a guy. He beat me up. I was fourteen, walking down the street, eating a candy bar because I was already eating my feelings at a professional level and there was a bus coming. I barely had the thought and he was gone. I knew I did it. That's how I found out I was telekinetic."

Quentin blinks. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," says Eliot. He moves even closer to Quentin. There's barely an inch between them. "Let's not talk."

Quentin swallows thickly and his gaze goes to Eliot's mouth. "What are we supposed to do if we don't talk?"

Eliot smiles at him, like a shark that's just smelled blood in the water. He reaches a hand up and cups Quentin's face, traces his lower lip with his thumb. "I have a few ideas."

"Oh, um," Quentin stammers nervously then leans up to close the distance between them. The kiss is hesitant and brief, lacking in technical skill. He pulls back and looks nervous, as if afraid he'll be rejected. Eliot finds himself strangely charmed. He leans back down and slots his mouth against Quentin's, kisses him slow and dirty. Quentin buckles against him and wraps his fingers in his shirt.

Eliot nips at his lip, sucks his lower lip into his mouth. Quentin gasps against him and Eliot takes the chance to delve his tongue inside Quentin's mouth. Quentin clutches him like he's never been kissed, and oh, but he is sweet. Eliot half wants to keep him. He'd be so fun to play with. Eliot breaks away from his mouth and kisses down his jaw, laves kisses down his neck and sucks on the juncture between neck and shoulder. Quentin is a shaking, quivering mess.

"Come home with me," Eliot whispers into his ear, nuzzling against him before pulling his earlobe into his mouth and sucking. Quentin groans aloud and nods frantically. So, so sweet.

Eliot almost wishes he didn't have to kill him.


	4. Chapter 4

Eliot has plenty of opportunities to kill Quentin.

He has the opportunity when he leads him inside his apartment, mouth on his. He has the opportunity when he yanks his shirt from over his head. He has the opportunity when he pulls down his pants and swallows him down. When he has his fingers inside him, making him beg for more. When he fucks him so hard the headboard bangs against the wall and knocks down that vase Margo's aunt gave her last Christmas. When Quentin falls asleep beside him and curls into his side, snuggley and warm.

Except that Eliot doesn't kill him. He smokes a cigarette and has a drink and thinks about how fucked he is, because he _likes_ him.

He'll do it in the morning. There's no rush. He has till the end of the week.

In the morning he cooks breakfast. Poison would do nicely, and he can make it quick and painless. Then Quentin pads out wearing a pair of his too big pajamas and yawning and he looks so innocent that Eliot can't think of hurting him. Instead he puts a plate of eggs in front of him and gives him coffee. Then he fucks him over the kitchen counter until he cries.

He is so _fucked_.

/

"You didn't kill him."

That much is obvious by the fact that Quentin is still in his bed, drooling into his pillow. Eliot has fucked him into exhaustion, and possibly rug burn. He looks sweet laying there, sprawled out in Eliot's pajamas. Eliot tucks a stray lock of hair back behind his ear and shushes Margo. "You'll wake him."

Margo had her own job last night—some hedge witch that Marina had kicked out who was stalking his ex and kept hexing her new lovers. She still looks amazing because she always does, but she has dark circles under her eyes that scream her need for sleep. "Can't wake him if he'd dead."

"I'll get around to it."

Margo rolls her eyes. "You're getting soft on me."

"Well, I couldn't possibly get hard again."

He suspects Margo is rolling her eyes again, but he's too busy looking at Quentin to notice. "There's something about him I like."

"His dick?" Margo says dryly. She's wading through the flung around clothes and making her way to the leftover wine sitting on the dresser. She chugs it down like a frat boy chugging beer. "Fucker last night made me chase him. Didn't tell me he was a traveler."

Eliot makes a sympathetic noise. He loves Margo, but he really wishes she would leave. He wants to talk to Quentin. Or fuck him again, if he can. He's not sure he has the stamina. Margo sets the empty bottle down and frowns. "The whole apartment stinks like sex. You fuckers better have stayed out of my room."

They actually had ventured in her room earlier in the morning in search of condoms, but had restrained themselves from using said condoms in her room. Eliot thinks it was an excellent show of restraint, considering Quentin had basically asked him to fuck him against the wall. "Would I do that to you?"

Margo shoots him a dirty look. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

She hides a yawn behind her hand. "I'm going to go shower and sleep for twelve hours. You going take care of this?"

Eliot really doesn't want to. "Don't you wonder why Irene wants him dead?"

"Because she's a psycho bitch."

Margo makes a good point.

"Maybe we can use what he knows against her."

Margo arches a brow at him. "Wow, the sex must have been something."

Eliot says nothing, just looks at her plaintively. After a moment she sighs. "Fine. Whatever you decide, I'll back you. Try not to wake me up with his screaming—the good kind or the bad."

/

Quentin wakes up feeling sated and content. Normally he doesn't go home with someone he just met. Especially men he just met. In fact his experience with men is a bit limited to a single drunken hook up with James that he can only vaguely remember. It was after Julia dumped him, and it had mostly been a pity thing. It wasn't his proudest moment.

He hopes Julia isn't too worried about him. She's been on edge since she learned about the fairies. But she's determined to bring Irene McAllister down, one way or another.

But that's a problem to think of another day. Today has been a great day, even if he's tired and sore. He thinks he could probably go another round, if Eliot is up for it. He reaches out for Eliot but the bed is empty. He hears Eliot's voice coming from the balcony.

"No Irene, it isn't done. Hop off my dick."

There are probably plenty of Irene's in the world, even in this city, but Quentin can't help but be afraid it's Irene McAllister."

Eliot pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I can do that. Yes, Irene."

He sees Quentin and waves. "I have to go." He hangs up without giving the other person time to speak. "My boss. She can be pushy."

Quentin doesn't want to ask, but he has to know. "Is your boss Irene McAllister?"

Eliot considers him for a moment, as if debating whether to answer. "Unfortunately, yes."

He said unfortunately. Maybe that means he's okay. And Quentin doesn't think he'd go to bed with a bad person. Somehow he would know.

"I have to tell you something about her. Something you're not going to like."


End file.
